The Greatest Prince
by Moogle
Summary: FE:TSS. The rivalry between Ephraim of Renais and Innes of Frelia is timeless, the stuff of which legends are made. Innes is certain that he will finally prove himself the greatest prince.


**The Greatest Prince**

A _Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones_ one-shot

By: Moogle

**I**

Sweat beading on his brow as the sun beat down upon him where, in the middle of the training range, he stood, Innes, the prince of Frelia, drew another arrow from his quiver, nocked the bow, and pulled the string back all in one fluid motion. "Pull!"

From his left, a chunk of bark from a decaying tree flew into the air, spinning end over end with no pattern after being thrown by one of the men who supervised the range. It arced upwards, and to his right, and for one moment the prince stood without moving, staring intently at his target and nothing else. Its angle, the way it tailed to the right, the effect of the wind, all were catalogued and analyzed in that one moment.

Innes lifted the long bow just so. He sighed in unison with the weapon as he let the arrow fly.

The arrow, at first, seemed to overshoot the target a bit to the left, but then the arrow began its downward flight and the piece of bark suddenly began to spiral to the left. The tip of the arrow pierced the bark as the arrow hit the bark As one, the projectile and the target fell to the ground. Innes watched them hit with a satisfied smile.

He was not counting, because he never counted his training shots, but it was the fiftieth consecutive hit that he had recorded that sunny day. No shot was like the one before it. Each target came from a different place, traveled at a different angle and at different speed. Some Innes struck from below, some from above, and some hit the target when it soared through the air at its flattest. There was no necessity to do this, but he did it anyway. No one understood.

"An excellent shot once again, your highness," the instructor said, and if the man felt any wonder at seeing the almost trick shot that Innes just hit, it did not show in his voice.

In fact, to Innes, it seemed that this congratulation was merely by rote, and that it was not meant at all. Part struck him as boredom, perhaps the resignation to seemingly endless monotony, and part as annoyance. _Yes, that must be it_, he thought. _This commoner has forgotten his place_, _presumed to judge my activities_. Perhaps it was getting close to time to replace the instructor.

There had been a dozen instructors for the prince at the archery training range within the past year. It never did occur to him that perhaps he was the reason the turnover was so high. The ones who he did not insist be replaced tended to quit on their own, so frustrated were they with the way they were treated by Innes. There was about an equal chance of Innes waking up one morning and deciding that Frelia Castle should be the color pink as there was of Innes waking up one morning and realizing that he was who drove so many people away.

"Shall I prepare another target?"

Now there was contempt in the instructor's voice. Innes knew that tone meant contempt. It had taken him many years of his life to finally figure out that when people spoke to him in the way the man did just then, a sighing voice, less animated than people normally spoke, and emphasizing syllables in strange places, it indicated disapproval.

To Innes, it was very frustrating, because he did not understand why he warranted disapproval. Why would someone dislike him because he took extensive archery practice and did not settle for anything less than perfection?

"No, that will be all for today..." Innes trailed off. He wanted to say the man's name, but he could not recall what it was. The instructor waited for a moment, until Innes shrugged helplessly, then the man nodded his head almost imperceptibly and left the prince alone in the yard with his thoughts.

For a few moments he lingered around at the firing line, walking back and forth and kicking his feet aimlessly into the pile of wood chunks that were used for targets. He thought that it might calm his mind, but found that standing there like that only exacerbated his poor humor, causing him to further dwell on the matter that he was trying to avoid.

Innes let out another sigh, and just as fluidly as he drew the arrow and nocked it earlier, unstrung the bow. He took a few steps towards the rack where the bows were kept, swinging his feet out wide so his body turned with each exaggerated step. This was not a particularly princely walk, he realized immediately. This was not a problem as long as nobody was there to see him in his moment of weakness.

Dejectedly, he stuck his bow on the part of the rack that held it. He was the prince, so his bows of choice got their own segment. Innes slung the string around it, and unbuckled the quiver around his back. The quiver he put in a pile of other quivers, causing the arrows left in it to rattle around a bit before settling down. Everyone in Frelia Castle used the same kind of arrows; there were no special Prince Innes arrows like there were for bows. It was almost enough to make him laugh.

_And wouldn't that be a shock_, he thought wryly, _considering nearly everyone believes I do not know how to laugh_. It would not be proper for a prince to laugh at his subjects (though they certainly laughed at him when they thought he was not listening). And how absurd it was to stand around in the training yard all by himself, fretting about such nonsense.

He scoffed, at his own pathetic behavior more than any other thing. Innes straightened his back, ready to stride out of the courtyard with his most stately stride. It simply would not do to betray his sour mood in such a way. Not that he was very hopeful about being able to do so.

Yet, as he walked to the door that would take him to another part of the castle, he turned back to look at the training yard one more time before leaving and was captivated by a moment that bordered on magical.

Floating to him from outside the walls, he could hear the sounds of the infantrymen and castle guards being drilled, the men and women of the finest military on Magvel, some day at his command. A cool breeze swept past him for just that moment, and far off in the distance he could hear the rustling of the great trees that were not far off, on the mountains that shot up to the sky, providing natural barriers against invasion.

Just as his gaze crossed the sky, a slow-moving cloud swept across the sun, providing a brief reprieve from its bright light and heat. A wing of pegasus knights on a training flight flew along the path of the cloud, a tangible reminder of the strength of the country that he would one day rule. The riders of the pegasi dipped their lances to him as they saw him down below, checking their flight to pass over him. Of course, his sister was among them, and she insisted on making a scene, as she always did.

The pegasi passed him by, then the cloud slowly passed away from the sun and its light shone down again, this time bearing down on Frelia Castle itself as Innes stared up at it. With the sun peaking out from the cloud shining down on it, the golden color that the masonry of the exterior of the castle took up was almost enough to take his breath away. There it stood, another tangible reminder of what was his birthright: the greatest castle in the world, without a doubt. Story upon story of stone, a bastion that had never fallen to any invading army. His ancestors, tactical geniuses no doubt, had seen to it that no area of the defense would ever be skimped. Such genius was rampant in his blood, and even farther back was one of the heroes who sealed away the power of the Demon King, so many years ago, if legend was to be believed.

The moment passed, though he continued to stare in wonder at what he had just seen, while the goosebumps on his flesh lowered and he calmed back down to his rational self.

Or at least, mostly rational, because coincidence was not something in which Innes, Prince of Frelia, believed. What he had just seen could not have simply been a series of random events that were strung together by chance. No, it must have been a sign from whoever watched over his life.

Gods, ancestors, or fate, he did not know or care, but Innes was certain that the omen foretold that he would soon defeat his nemesis, Ephraim of Renais, at long last, and prove himself the greater man.

**II**

The competition to which Innes so looked forward was to be held in several days, on the tournament grounds outside of the castle proper. It was a tournament that was held every year, on the same day each year, to celebrate the day that the Demon King's power was sealed away inside the Sacred Stones. Though, each year it took place in a different court, and on this particular year it was Frelia's turn to host the nobility of all of Magvel.

That was all well and good, but it was the friendly competition between three of the princes, Innes, Ephraim, and Lyon of Grado, that really interested him. It was something that had been a part of the tournament in the past few years, since the princes had been old enough to take part in the fighting. The boys, young men now, they were, had always been about the same age, and to the proud fathers it seemed natural to pit them against one another in such a way.

Every year it always went the same, yet still they insisted upon the charade. Prince Lyon was not cut out for such things, and in each event he had to try his best to be respectable. Not an easy task, given who the other competitors were. Indeed, the true competition was always between Ephraim and Innes. No matter what the choice of events (it varied every year in accordance with the hosting nation) they were always on a level of their own, Ephraim with a well of natural talent and Innes consumed with the desire to outdo him.

Past years had produced some legendary tales that were still told among the smallfolk of every land. Indeed, Innes' performance in every tournament would likely have been legendary on its own, counted solely among the greatest feats of their time. For all of this he was still overshadowed by Ephraim, who made beating Innes look completely effortless.

In one year, when tilting at rings, Innes had run the course perfectly, catching every ring on the end of his jousting lance as he circled the course, sitting like a perfect gentleman in the saddle. Following him, Ephraim, the shameless showboater, rode the course while standing in the stirrups and guiding the horse with only his feet, and damned if he did not catch every ring on the end of his jousting lance as well, to roaring cheers from the gallery that had already forgotten Innes' own effort.

Another competition saw them dueling one another with wooden stick-swords, the rule being that the first to three touches would be the victor. The first two points awarded were on bouts that lasted for minutes, the two princes using every trick they knew to keep from being touched. There were textbook parries aplenty, fancy blocks, and last-second dodges that made the crowd gasp in awe. Innes was awarded the first touch on both of these marathons. After this second one, Ephraim yawned (yawned!) and came back to beat Innes within ten seconds on each of the next three bouts, winning the match.

So it went, year after year, regardless of what event he was competing with Ephraim. Innes would always put in an effort that would have left everyone who saw him in awe of his skill, if only his opponent was not Ephraim, so much more worthy of that awe.

But this year would be the year that changed it all. This was the first year that the events would be held at Frelia since the competition between Lyon, Ephraim, and Innes began. It had taken a lot of persuasion of his father the king, but Innes had convinced him to schedule a number of events that focused on skill at archery. Innes was already known around Magvel as a great archer, without even having shot his bow at one of these contests. While there were many things at which he had to train to be so good, archery was not one of them.

The skill he had with a bow was innate, something that could not be drilled into him or anyone else no matter how long they trained or who instructed them. There was simply no way that Ephraim, too, could be born with such skill at archery. And so Innes knew that no matter how well the Prince of Renais did, this would finally be the year where the Prince of Frelia did him one better. If he could not beat Ephraim at archery, he would never beat Ephraim.

**III**

"Excuse me, your highness."

There were now two days left until the tournament was to be held. The dignitaries from the other nations were starting to arrive. In particular, _he_ had arrived today, and that held most of Innes' focus as he strode through the spacious corridors of Frelia Castle. Walking quickly through the castle was something Innes often did, but on this particular day he was more careless than usual and bumped into a serving girl who was carrying a large armful of towels, now scattered across the floor.

Innes was sure at once that he had looked at this girl at least a hundred times before without actually seeing her. She was dressed in the plain clothes of the servants of the castle, her brown hair tied up into a bun. The only thing remarkable about her in this instance was the expression on her face, the look of shock and horror that probably could only come from bumping into someone important in the hallway.

He could see it in her eyes. The towels were long forgotten. She feared his response to the collision. As many things were, this was beyond his own understanding. In his entire lifetime he did not believe he had ever done anything to anybody to cause a serving girl to look at him with such fear.

It irritated him, because he knew, in the same way that he knew that the sun would rise in the east, that Ephraim never had any problems like this. No, not Ephraim of Renais, who exuded charisma out his ears, so much that it seemed that Innes was the only person in all of Magvel who did not care for the prince. It was quite a stark contrast to Innes, who sometimes felt like the only person who did not dislike him was his own sister, and only because she was his sister.

None of which got him any closer to solving his short-term issue, that a serving girl was staring at him as though he were some kind of iron-fisted tyrant who would order her head removed because of what had just transpired.

"The fault was mine, miss," Innes finally broke the silence, speaking as sincerely as he could manage to do so. "If you would please, allow me to help..."

"No, I'm fine," the girl snapped quickly. It seemed that Innes speaking broke the spell that had fallen over her, and now instead of standing there she stooped over and scooped up all of the towels back into her arms. She did not make any effort to fold them before she fled the way she had been traveling, without even so much as a "by your leave".

Innes stared after her until she was gone from his sight, and continued to stare at the now-empty space that the girl last occupied before she disappeared from his view. There was some lesson to learn from that encounter, he was sure of that much. What it was, however, he could not discern. He was not conscious of the detriment of his single-minded obsession to be better than Ephraim. That he was thought aloof, even for a prince, was not known to him. Much like some other things, it would be years before he truly understood.

While he puzzled over his encounter, someone snuck up behind him. The new visitor was a person who was far less afraid of any possible wrath from Innes; indeed, she did not fear him in the slightest. She reached out and tapped his right shoulder, then side-stepped to the left, so that there was nobody present when Innes looked back to his right. She started giggling, and then he looked to the left to see the source of the sound. There was again a look of surprise on his face as he realized that he had been gotten.

"Sister, what are you doing here?" The sooner he could start a conversation, the sooner he could forget how he was just embarrassed twice in a row.

Tana smiled at him, the way she always smiled at him when she saw him, regardless of what kind of mood she was in or what had preceded her seeing him. "I was just passing by, Innes," she replied, and he knew that it was true.

Theirs was a relationship that only siblings could have, and even for that, it was not likely that many other brother-sister pairs in the world would understand it. When there was a disagreement between them, no matter what the subject, it often got very heated. Yet, for all the harsh words exchanged, it was forgiven and soon forgotten nearly every time, such that there was no lingering bad blood between them.

Neither Tana nor Innes particularly understood one another, but they understood that the bond they shared as siblings ran deeper than any differences between them. With one another they might quarrel, but always they took the same side against any outsider.

His sister looked as though she was about to shuffle past him and continue about her business, but he held up a hand and she waited before moving on. "Do you think that people hate me?"

If she was surprised that he asked the question without preamble, Tana did not show it. For a couple of moments she looked at him thoughtfully. Tana shook her head, strands of green hair bouncing this way and that. "It is not hate. But like I do not often understand you, nor do you often understand me, I think that people do not understand you, and you do not understand them, either. And why should you? You do not know them, and they do not know you."

She did not need to say any more for him to understand why this was not desirable. Some day, as far in the future as it was, he would be the King of Frelia, and if people still treated him as they did, then he would not be a very successful ruler.

"Thank you, Tana." He nodded to her, and she believed that he took the point that she was trying to make, so she smiled at him again and continued on her way.

But as Tana said to Innes, the two siblings did not often understand one another. Though Innes did realize that he had a problem, he did not at all grasp the subtly implied solution that she laid out for him.

Innes instead believed that the only way for him to make people start to love him would be to make them proud, and there was only one way to do that: for him to finally triumph over Ephraim and win the pride of his nation. Now he needed to win not just for himself, but for all of his people.

It was fortunate that Tana left and did not hear how he twisted her advice, or there may have been another argument between the children of King Hayden.

**IV**

The day of the tournament arrived, and it was a perfect day for holding a tournament in every way that it could possibly be perfect. There were just a few wispy clouds up high in the sky, hardly enough to mar the bright sunlight. A cool breeze, just enough to be noticed, was consistent, and kept the temperature at a nice level all throughout the day.

Spread out all across the plains outside of Castle Frelia (what would be the killing grounds if war came to that land) were the colorful pavilions of every nobleman and knight worth speaking about in the three kingdoms of Grado, Frelia, and Renais; Jehanna and Rausten were not known for sending many travelers to these festivals, preferring to focus on other things.

Of the pavilions enough could not be said. The greatest belonged to the visiting royal families, of course, extravagant coverings that seemed to shine with the morning sun as the royal banners out front capered in the breeze. Guards with polished armor and billowing cloaks stood out front of these, men looking every bit as majestic as those camped in those pavilions behind them.

There were smaller pavilions with the retainers, some little more than tents. These were farther away from the others, as though their owners were somehow ashamed to even sleep on the same part of the field in such august company. There were no banners or guards in front of these. For those farther down in the pecking order, it simply was not necessary.

Innes, who rose with the sun as he did every morning, gazed down upon the field that was so tranquil early in the morning. Many were still sleeping off the previous night's spirits. That was the excuse for most of these upper crust folk to have such tournaments, Innes knew: the partying. Such things did not interest him, but he still took pride in the Frelian hospitality that allowed them to have such fun.

High up in Frelia Castle as he was, he would not have heard any of the sounds on that field even if there were any. But Innes possessed excellent eyesight and he could see that there was not much movement to produce sound. A few men scurried here and there, mostly just servants tending to cookfires or other chores, though a few of the knights sat polishing their armor or adding paint to shields, so that they might well look splendid enough to warrant a song.

It was the best they could hope for. There were many competitions for these knights, and they would be cheered by the crowds and the smallfolk would root for their favorites, but they all would be there just waiting to see the next chapter in the epic battle between the princes. It was true of many of those retainers and knights who would be competing in their own events as well.

Sightseeing was not nearly practical enough for Innes to do it, as breathtaking as the sight down on that field was from as high up as Innes stood. Nor did Innes think of it as sightseeing, because that was not his intent. Of all of the tents and pavilions, he focused most of his attention on just one of them. This was the greatest pavilion on the field, the one belonging to the Renais royal family. Housed within it would be King Fado, as well as Princess Eirika, and of course his rival Prince Ephraim.

He would watch it for as long as he needed to, until Ephraim emerged and he could see if the other prince had any manner about him that seemed to indicate a weakness that Innes could exploit in the competition. Innes watched as Ephraim went about the camp, speaking to a man here and there, stopping to break his fast, checking his equipment. He was not surprised to see that Ephraim seemed to be in perfect shape.

_That is not a problem_, Innes reflected. _It will make it that much more satisfying when I do beat him_. It would not do for him to remember for all of his days that he only beat his great rival because it was an off day. There was no doubt in his mind about that.

Within an hour the field was bustling all over, and the activity slowly made its way over to the tournament grounds. A special section of covered seats was open to all of the knights and other nobles, and they went there with no exceptions. The curious smallfolk stood on the opposite side, the ones who arrived early getting the best places to stand. Another hour after this and the tournament was underway.

It began with a ceremonial flyover by a wing of Frelia's finest pegasus knights (led, of course, by the royal family's own Princess Tana), something that brought great cheers from all assembled. Even for the nobles, it was a rare treat to see so many pegasi in one place. Then the day's real entertainment started.

In truth, the day was too short to pack in all of the events one at a time. Tradition dictated that it had to be held in a single day, and that was that. The tournament grounds were constructed large enough to accommodate this, in such a way that several events could take place at one time. Countless servants were on hand to make quick changes to the surroundings so they would be suitable for the various competitions that would be held that day.

They held all of the most popular events first (aside from the epic competition between the princes). This was an intentional design, to make sure that the crowd would arrive early and stay until the end of the day. So the gathered audience was treated first to a combination of jousting, real jousting, with twelve-foot wooden lances to three points, none of this tilting at rings business, with the blunted sword fights off to one side, and targets for archery off to the other.

And they were exciting competitions, to be sure, though Innes passed on them. There was always something different going on, no matter how many such tournaments he had seen, but he had his own preparations to make, to be extra sure that he would be ready for his showdown with Ephraim.

**V**

Waiting in the armory was the last person that Innes wanted to see (quite appropriately, the first person that he expected that he would see). It was, in many ways, a one-sided rivalry, since Ephraim won all of the competitions and did not seem to bear any particular grudge against Innes in spite of all that the prince of Frelia happened to hate him. He was hardly the quickest on the uptake when it came to real, human interaction, but Innes could tell this much. So instead of saying the first true greeting that came to his mind, Innes instead waved at his rival.

"Good day, Innes. I am looking forward to our competition this year." There was (Innes was convinced) a subtle mockery in Ephraim's tone. No way such a statement could be genuine. "It has taken a lot of training to become proficient in this year's chosen events."

_As though it takes him training to become proficient in anything_, was what he thought, but instead he said, "May the best man win." By which Innes really meant, _May _I _win_. It was not necessary, nor would it be particularly tactful, to point out.

Ephraim nodded, and Innes was certain he was simply pretending not to notice the mockery in return. "I could not agree more." The Prince of Renais held out his hand for a shake.

At first Innes stared at Ephraim's hand, as though he expected to find some kind of small shock pad in the palm. For a brief moment he allowed himself to consider the possibility that perhaps Ephraim really did mean what he said, that he hoped the best man would win. But no, Innes knew that could not be possible. He shook Ephraim's hand anyway, though, giving his strongest shake so he did not seem weak (it felt like Ephraim did the same), and smiled his most charming smile. "Then, I shall see you at the first event."

And with that his rival was gone. It occurred to Innes that he did not see Ephraim actually gathering any equipment in the armory, and he wondered if Ephraim only waited there precisely to force the sort of encounter he knew that Innes would hate. Innes, of course, would not put this past the other prince at all. He did realize it was not worth worrying about when he had the competition, and kept the thought out of his mind all day.

The battle of the three princes did not have any formal name. It was simply there, and everyone knew that it would start in the afternoon, after all of the other competitions were completed, and that Princes Ephraim, Innes, and Lyon would be the ones competing in that. In keeping with the lack of pretentious pomp and fanfare, there was not even a bard to announce the proceedings in a grand voice as bards tended to do; instead, a retainer of the hosting land simply proclaimed to the gathered audience what the next event was going to be, and at the end of each, who was the victor. Nothing more complicated than this was needed because everyone could see how it went for themselves.

The battle (as Innes did think of it) progressed exactly as he might have predicted. The early events chosen in the competition were ones in which Innes had been defeated by Ephraim in previous years. This was to Innes' insistence, much as he insisted that the end of the competition would consist of testing archery skill. He would prove to everyone that he could beat Ephraim in things that he had lost at in the past.

The events of the princes' competition were very similar to ones that were in the lesser nobility and knights' competitions. They fought at lances from horseback, tilted at rings, fought with swords, fought on raised platforms with pugil sticks. The first to fall lost at the pugil sticks. There were still other bouts which would test martial prowess. Each prince fought the other two, and the two with the most wins fought one another. Lyon never won at anything, though he always put up a good show for himself at the least.

Yet this year, unlike previous years, Innes and Ephraim came to a draw in every competition. They unhorsed one another simultaneously, reached a 'kill' point with the swords at the same time. Even at pugil sticks, they went off the platform and hit the ground at the same time. This was very unusual. In the past, Innes would win one event to every one that Ephraim won, but this year there were simply _no winners_. The stakes of each future event were that much more important.

And that was how it went through the whole competition, until it came up until the very last event, one that Innes believed would be a simple test of accuracy with the bow. He was guaranteed to match Ephraim shot for shot until eventually the distance was too great for Ephraim but not Innes.

As often is the case with such well-laid plans, especially ones that are not spoken to another soul, they proved to be disrupted. For no sooner did Innes pick up his bow than did King Hayden's personal herald make his way down to the field.

The crowd became silent immediately. So too did Innes, Ephraim, and Lyon, for that matter. It was a very unusual occurrence. Innes did not like unusual occurrences, because they rarely coincided with his expectations. This interruption proved no exception to the rule.

The herald cleared his throat and addressed the crowd. "Most honored guests, the finest nobles and knights of Magvel, King Hayden and all of the people of Frelia" here there was cheering from the area where the smallfolk stood "wish to thank you for your attendance today. I think you will all agree that this is the greatest competition this festival has seen in all its years!" Here the herald paused for cheers from all around the gallery.

The two kings and the one emperor, Innes saw, were cheering more raucously than anyone.

"In recognition of this, King Hayden has decreed that there shall be a change in the nature of the final event, so that the competition might be even greater than before!" There was a collective gasp, followed by more applause. Innes was as close to being ill for no real reason as he had been in his entire life. "Shooting at stationary targets is so boring, is it not?"

"_Yeah!"_ the crowd cheered, although in truth they had enjoyed the archery competition earlier in the day among the highest of all of the events held.

"King Hayden thinks so as well, and so the archery competition instead shall be a _trick shot competition_!" The herald drew out these last three words dramatically, winning more cheers. "Prince Innes and Prince Ephraim shall take turns demonstrating a trick shot, which the other shall duplicate. The first to miss when the other competitor makes his opponent's trick shot shall lose, and then we will have a victor! Princes, _let us begin_!" The herald threw up his arms and the cheering grew in volume yet again.

"Prince Innes shall select the first trick shot."

So the competition began anew, an all-or-nothing event that was so radically different than how Innes envisioned the archery portion of the competition being. Still, archery was his strong point, and he did practice fancy, trick shots. Did Ephraim do the same? He would find out.

On any ordinary year, the deeds of Innes and Ephraim in the great competition were the stuff of legend. Yet all of these paled in comparison to what the assembled folk of Magvel, both noble and not, were able to bear witness to on that afternoon and evening in the land of Frelia. Such bowmanship they had never seen in their whole lives, and would likely never see again.

Something about the whole situation made Innes uneasy from the beginning. He came out with a trick that he was certain Ephraim would be unable to match.

Innes set one of the stationary targets on the ground, some distance in front of him. Standing facing into the breeze, Innes demonstrated his shot. He fired the arrow at a fairly even angle, and waited for the breeze to catch it. This spun the arrow around, and its momentum back down carried it to stick in the target.

Ephraim made the shot. Innes did not believe it, but he did.

And so the competition went on again, with shots made while blindfolded, shots made on the run, from a tree branch, shots made in midair while jumping down from the tree branch. Shots were made that blasted through five different straw targets, shots were made while bent backwards, with the bow stuck in the ground and the string being drawn by only a pinky finger. Each time Innes rolled out another shot, he believed there was no way that Ephraim could possibly make that shot, but every time the Prince of Renais matched him, much to his dismay. The shots that Ephraim offered in response were never as hard, but as long as Ephraim kept making Innes' challenges, that did not matter.

At last it came time for Innes' ultimate trick exhibition shot. Three stationary targets were set up at arm's length from one another, and Innes took one hundred paces from where they were set. He then drew not one, not two, but three arrows and nocked them all at once. As one, they launched out from his bow and each arrow sought out a different target, thumping right into the chests of each straw man.

Ephraim made the shot. It was a near thing; his hand almost slipped and he nearly fired the bow incorrectly, while it was pointing the wrong way. But he made the shot, and now it was his turn to propose a trick shot.

The Prince of Renais set up two targets, two of the same ones that had just been used, and he too walked one hundred paces from those two targets. He took one bow, drew an arrow and nocked it, and held it in one hand. Then, with his other hand, Ephraim picked up a second bow, which he held by the string with his teeth as he drew a second arrow and nocked it on that bow. Ephraim contorted his arms in such a way that the bows were each able to be drawn back and steadied from wrist to elbow. Then he subtly moved his arms and the bows both twanged, two arrows streaking towards the targets, which they hit.

Innes stared in disbelief. _Where did he learn how to do that?_ _How did he know he would need to do that?_ It defied all logic, more than any trick shot that evening had done already. Firing while contorted was one thing, and three arrows at once at three different targets was another, but to shoot _two bows at the same time_... Could he do it? He had to. He memorized the movements that Ephraim had made and he thought he could duplicate it for himself.

Innes stepped up to the firing line and took a deep breath. He swept off his cloak and tossed it into the outstretched arms of a nearby servant. There could be no chances with its flowing fabric getting in his way. He even insisted on using the same two bows that Ephraim just used for his trick, in case they were somehow specially designed for use with that one trick.

He took the first bow in his right hand, drew one arrow and nocked it. Then the second he held in his teeth, while he drew another arrow, nocked it on the second bow. Then, holding the bows steady with his hands he pushed back with his elbows so that the bows drew. With all of the accumulated skill that he'd acquired over the years he tried to judge the trajectory of his two bows. He had never tried to do this with two at once before. Still, it seemed he had the right of it. He let his breath out and tried to duplicate the subtle shrug that Ephraim did to fire the bows. The bows both twanged, two arrows streaking towards the targets...

The arrow on the right hit its straw man, but the one on the left missed by a bare inch and continued flying through the air.

The two bows slipped out of his hands and fell onto the grass. On the entire tournament ground there was not a sound.

Then, the herald appeared again. _"Your winner, Prince Ephraim of Renais!"_

Everyone who was not already standing was on his feet, cheering loudly and often for the victor of that year's competition. All agreed already that it was the toughest fought event in its history. They remained on their feet as Ephraim took a bow, and afterwards.

Innes continued to stare blankly at the empty targets. Eventually (he did not know how long had passed because he lost track) Ephraim came over and clapped him on the back genially. "I thought you had me with the three arrows. Well fought!"

But Innes was not in the mood for small talk. "I don't understand. How did you beat me?" Until he could answer that question he would not be able to be at peace. There was, as he had noted before, no logical foundation to what just transpired.

"Because," Ephraim said, favoring Innes with his most winning smile, "I didn't care if I won."

Still not understanding, Innes continued to look at the targets, as though that second arrow would suddenly appear. And he already swore to himself that next year would be the year to prove that he was the best there is.

**FIN**

Notes:

Standard disclaimers apply: things that are not mine are not mine, no money is being made off of this work of fanfiction, blah blah blah.

This 'fic was inspired mostly by certain conversations between Innes and Ephraim in the game, as well as a couple of Support conversations here and there. I thought there was an interesting rivalry there, and I wanted to present my take on how that may have gotten started, or escalated. Did I do a good job of that? Well, that's up to you to decide.

Thanks for reading. Like everybody else in the world, my day is brightened by the Review Alert in my mailbox, so if you liked this story, drop a line in there to make me smile.

Signing off,

Mark "Moogle" Brown

18 June 2005


End file.
